


Darkness Grows Within Us

by carnelianBlood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gen, SO, Serial Killer Castiel, Serial Killer Dean, don't read if you get triggered by that kind of thing, like really this gets nice an in-depth about why, they kind of have a relationship but not really yet so i'm not tagging it as such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnelianBlood/pseuds/carnelianBlood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off this prompt: an AU where Cas and Dean are serial killers, and they’ve never met, but because they’re both on the news so often they know about each other and communicate through these security tapes. Their goals may be to kill each other but when they finally come face to face it doesn’t work like that at all.. <br/>I didn't technically have them meet face-to-face, but whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Grows Within Us

          A man winked at a security camera, hidden behind a ceiling panel. Then he turned away and, covered in the blood of his prey, walked away with a pace that was self-assured in its smooth glide. 

        Cas had the video on constant loop. The audacity of the other man astounded him. He himself clung to the shadows, unseen, until the moment that he struck. Then he in turn would make his gesture, but only after the deed. It was his wont to do so, and so he spread his arms in a mockery of wings in the to the nearest camera available, and made his escape. He was never caught, and neither was Dean, but he delighted in showing off to his distant companion. They both watched the other closely, and each knew of the other's movements intimately, until it was as if they knew each other as friends. That, of course, could never come to pass, for two killers such as themselve would have an ultimately murderous relation. 

        And so they danced around each other, today here, another there, moving often enough that neither could meet the other, but always leaving a sign that said simply, I know you're here. It was a distant echo of the time when they had had friends, and not simply acquaintances and cutouts. It had been a simpler time, and neither regretted their choices as to what they had become. There was no going back, anyway, and now they found a cruel joy in their art, in the sculpted terror on a mark's face, in the bright and beautiful red of blood.

        It was his favorite time of year. Winter was coming fast, but not quite here, and occasionally there was a soft dusting of snow on the frozen Minnesota ground. It was the best time of year for killing, when people were retreating from the cold and could be pushed farther and more easily. Blood contrasted with the snow, in color and temperature, and so it froze when it hit the ground and stayed until the thaw, undisturbed. A perfect drop was deserving of a photo, and Cas had done so many winters that he had a wall of photos, preserving the frozen beauty on the inside of his drab van. 

        The one time they nearly met, it was already winter, and Dean was walking across an open field of broken-down grasses, feet crunching lightly through the snow's crust. He approached the site of Cas's latest job and knelt as Cas watched, fascinated by the handsome man who had tracked the untrackable. He had been told that it would be cleaned and covered by the time that he was halfway out, and yet here Dean was, dabbing his fingers in the reddened ice crystals. He would have to punish this cutout. A shame, as he had always been good on his word before. Then, suddenly, the hunter stood, as if sensing his presence, and Cas flattened himself against the ground, hiding behind the old black Impala that his nemesis drove. Dean surveyed the the land, carefully, before calling out. "Good work, Archangel. Don't blame your man. I..convinced...him to tell me where you were. Hats off and all that crap." 

        Cas almost jumped at the sound of his voice. It was deep and gravelly, and the same self-assurance was in it as in his walk. He stayed silent, waiting for more, but the hunter simply stood for a few moments, as if waiting for a reply, then got back into his car and drove away, leaving only tire tracks and the memory of that seductive voice still ringing through his head. 

        And now Cas drove through Kansas, watching the fields passing by, and he wondered at what he was about to do. It was almost ironic; a killer pondering the morals of who he would kill next. But still he did, and it was almost enough to make him turn around. But almost is not did, and he still drove on towards the tiny town in the middle of nowhere. He needed to get some attention. He already had attention, of course, having been labeled the second most wanted serial killer in the States; but he needed something more radical, something that would gain him enough attention that he would be on every news channel in the country, to make him unmistakable. He needed another person that would rival his skill, but in another area. He needed a hacker.  


End file.
